


Nothing

by then00breturns1101



Category: Undertale
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Brain Damage, Dadster, Depression, Gen, Human AU, Hurt/Comfort, Might be a bit Ooc?, Sad Gaster, Self-Harm, Suicide, Suicide Attempt, Temporary Amnesia, and is also depressed, and papyrus of course, did i mention angst??, dissociation mentions, gaster and sans' relationship was so fucking broken guys, happy mug, he needs a hug, he was just a hurt kid, kind of graphic? not really but, like a lot of angst holy heck, overdosing mention, passive-aggressive mugs, sans was kind of a jerk but he isn't a bad guy, so does Sans, steer clear if this stuff triggers you, toddnet's human au, who can't deal with emotions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-10
Updated: 2017-01-10
Packaged: 2018-09-16 17:16:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,058
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9281825
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/then00breturns1101/pseuds/then00breturns1101
Summary: This is from Toddnet's human au! Go check it out on his tumblr! todd.yiff.lolAfter a lab accident, Dr. W.D. Gaster suffered severe brain damage, and temporary amnesia. For two years, he failed to recognize, or even acknowledge, his eldest son, Sans. Once he finally did, it was too late.Their relationship was shattered beyond repair.When the bitterness and hurt comes to a peak, will they be able to recover from their past and finally become truly father and son once again?





	

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [just dump my body in the lake](https://archiveofourown.org/works/5148605) by [elijahking (orphan_account)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/elijahking). 



> ok so i loooooove toddnet's human au and DAMN it has some Quality Angst(TM). so i always wondered, "hey, gaster is already a suicidal depressed mess, what if i turned up a knob a bit?" and uh yeah this happened  
> a bit of a vent fic tbh, but i hope you enjoy!  
> inspired by "just dump my body into the lake" by elijahking, who reminded me of the angst in this au

Nothing.

There was… nothing worth living for anymore.

Papyrus didn’t need him.

Sans didn’t want him.

Nobody else even knew him.

It was pointless to go on, wasn’t it?

At least, this was what he was thinking as he looked into the raging waters below, his hands still on the railing of the bridge.

As the man pondered on what exactly happened to drive him to this point, he recalled that day.

 

 

“’Ey, you planning on getting up anytime soon? Friendly reminder that, hey, you have a life,” the deep, tired voice echoed sarcastically into W. D. Gaster’s room from the open door. Shit, Sans…

He didn’t reply, instead burying his face into the blanket.

“Or, y’know, just lie in bed and ignore me. Not like it’s the first time you’ve done it…” Sans muttered, closing the door and leaving Gaster in darkness once again.

“I’m sorry…” he whispered, so quietly that only he could hear it. He had done so, so much to hurt Sans. On top of being a sub-par father in the first place, he ignored his son for two years straight after the accident. He just… didn’t acknowledge his existence. For two whole fucking years.

What kind of stuff does that _do_ to a teenager? He was just a kid… he didn’t deserve that. And Papyrus… god, Papyrus was the only thing keeping him alive for the past five years. Ever since the accident, he’s just been… gone. Broken. Yet Papyrus, bless him, was still there. He still loved him, forgave him.

He deserved better.

Since he had the accident, the brothers have been basically fending for themselves. Gaster was useless, unable to do even some of the most basic tasks at time. He rarely got out of bed more than five days a week.

And when he did… well, Papyrus greeted him cheerily, congratulating him on getting up. Sans would say something sarcastic and stinging, while Papyrus told him not to say that. Every day Gaster came downstairs, Sans would get coffee from the same mug. It felt like a stab to the chest every time he did.

It read “World’s Fifth Best Son.” Sans had it custom made a while ago as a passive-aggressive quip against his father.

“Well, you’ve got Papyrus, and then the three dogs, so I guess I’m next after them,” he had told him when Gaster found the mug in the mail. He was heartbroken, but resigned. He had caused so much pain, so he deserved his own suffering. Not that his life didn't already feel like a hellish void, but still.

And yet, that night, he got drunk with Asgore. Again. Despite Papyrus’ advice not to. In his bitterness and anger, he ordered his own mug. “World’s Third Greatest Dad.” After Grillby and Asgore, he was the bronze medal of father figures in his sons’ lives, but really, he was no father anymore. Especially not to Sans.

After all, what kind of father lets his son sink into depression without a single word of comfort?

One who was better off dead.

 

 

“Yeah, he probably isn’t getting out of bed again today,” Sans said from his room next to Gaster’s. The walls weren’t soundproof, but Gaster was so often dissociating that he may as well have been deaf to whatever anyone was saying. This time, however, he had all of his senses intact without interference by brain static. That turned out to be for the worse.

“Honestly, he may as well not live here,” he continued. Sounded like he was on the phone with someone. A friend, most likely. Possibly Grillby. Cruel irony at its best. “He pretty much never leaves his room and when he does, he just tries to stay away from everyone. ‘Specially me. You’d think he forgot about me again.”

A pause. Gaster felt a growing ache in his chest. This always happened…

“Yeah, yeah, I shouldn’t say that. It was brain damage, I know. But he’s still been a shitty excuse for a father this whole time,” Sans shot back to the person on the other line. That… that hurt. A lot. Of course, he had been telling it to himself for years now, but to hear someone else say it- to hear his _son_ say it- was a new kind of pain.

“Yeah, okay. Look, Grillbz, I’m not really in the mood to talk about this. Feelin’ a little hotheaded, y’know? Heh. See ya later,” Sans finished with one of his signature puns. This was like rubbing salt in the wound. He used to tell Gaster puns, jokes, everything funny he could come up with and they would laugh about them together.

He hadn’t laughed in years, because Sans never told any more jokes to him anymore.

Just when he thought that the twisting and aching in him couldn’t get any worse, Gaster heard one last mutter.

“Fuck not living here, he may as well be dead for all I care… it would barely be different.”

Gaster curled in on himself, as if he had been stabbed again. Wow, he thought it was bad before, that was nothing! Nothing compares to your own son saying you’d be better off dead. His son. Sans. Sans wanted him _dead_.

And the worst part was? Gaster deserved every bit of it. He had ignored an error in the code which caused the accident in the first place. He had ignored his son for two years. He ignored everyone’s advice to actually fucking talk to Sans and try to resolve things, instead resorting to isolation and passive-aggressive skirmishes that eventually stopped as he just took out his frustration and anger on the only person who deserved it- himself.

He was no stranger to razor blades. Two years since he started, and he was never able to stop. At least it was better than alcohol. Less expensive, easier to hide.

Still, somehow, nobody had found out. Good. Papyrus already felt bad enough, and Sans wouldn’t care. No point in getting help.

A haze of static took over Gaster’s mind once again, but left enough clarity to think… to formulate a plan.

He hid the razors. He wouldn’t be needing them anymore, but he didn’t want anyone to find them.

 

That night, he finally left his room. Quietly, he walked out of the house and locked the door behind him. He hadn’t brought his key. He didn’t plan on coming back.

He was not the only one to leave that night. Sans, too, was awake, even at the ungodly hour of one in the morning.   He heard the door open and was immediately suspicious. Papyrus was never awake in the night, he always went to bed and woke up at exactly the same time. That just left Gaster… what the fuck was he up to?

Part of him wanted to shrug it off as him just going off to drink with Asgore again. And yet… he couldn’t let it go. Something felt off… just slightly askew. It felt… scary. He left his room and began to follow his father through the streets.

 

Gaster walked briskly. A part of him was scared. Of course. Everyone has some fear of death, it’s what kept the species alive, after all. But his fear of dying was overpowered by his hopelessness for living.

For so long, he had stopped himself from finishing the act on one tiny, naïve hope. He just wanted Sans to forgive him before he died. He had kept going, hanging on a thin thread of belief that maybe, just maybe he could try to fix things. Apologize to both of his sons, properly. Be able to talk to them, and maybe… maybe he could have really smiled one last time. Heard one last joke from Sans. The impossible dream, the fantasy of seeing all three of them together, smiling, laughing, as a real family…

Well, it was truly impossible now.

 

Sans kept following Gaster through the night. He was never noticed… strange. Gaster was always sensitive to sound, except when he was dissociating, of course. And it was unusual that he was going this fast.

They started getting farther from the city, and Sans got nervous. Where the fuck was he going?? Maybe he got into the habit of nighttime walks…

He let his speed slow and fell farther behind Gaster. Maybe he should leave it, just go home. But on the other hand… eh, what would it hurt to follow one more block?

Gaster picked up the pace as Sans slowed down. He was almost there. He turned the corner and practically started running. A few cars occasionally drove by, but none stopped. He looked off the railing of the bridge.

Bridge.

The irony, the sheer, cruel irony of a situation would never fail to hit him. Bridges. They were built to connect, to create… and he was one of many people using it to do the opposite. To get as far away from this place as possible. From this cruel life that didn’t care. He was finally going to be free… at least, as close as he could ever get.

Slowly, he climbed over the railing. It wasn’t easy, but he was determined to see this through. He turned, with his hands gripping the metal, and leaned away from the bridge, facing the water below. Yet now, he paused. Maybe there was something left…?

 _No,_ he told himself.

_There is nothing._

 

 

Sans, still ambling casually, turned the corner and was a bit surprised to find Gaster gone. He squinted, looking across the bridge- uh oh. Cold dread wrapped itself around his brain. Where was Gaster? He walked closer, still scanning for-

Oh.

Oh, god.

He froze. Gaster was on the other side of the railing, a few yards ahead of him, and leaning away. No. No, this- oh god he wasn’t actually going to jump, was he?

Was he…?

Why would-

He paused. It was not the time to let his mind wander, but he started to think.

Why _wouldn’t_ he?

Sans had never really payed attention to Gaster’s mental state. He never wanted to, and he told himself he didn’t care. Now, though… he started remembering patterns, and… it was like a mirror.

They acted in about the same way. Listless, depressed, only left their rooms with Papyrus’ urging. The one difference was that Sans turned to bitterness, while Gaster did, but then slipped back under into depression. He started admonishing himself for being so exigant. Of fucking _course_ Gaster was tired all the time, he was depressed as hell! He probably barely wanted to be alive in the first pl-

Oh.

He suddenly remembered the phone conversation.

Gaster’s room was right next to his… he could have heard everything.

Oh god.

He never wanted it to go this far.

His mind would’ve gone deeper into describing just how horrible of a person he was, but then Gaster started to lean forward more. His hands loosened their grip. Sans rushed forwards, tears brimming in his eyes.

“ _No!”_

 

 

 

Gaster was about to do it. It would all be over soon. He wouldn’t be a burden on anyone anymore. Just as he almost let go, he heard a yell. He turned around, startled, only to find-

Sans??

Why would he, of all people, try to stop this? He thought that being dead would finally make him happy, so…

Why?

Why save him?

As Sans ran towards Gaster, he spoke up again, out of breath.

“No! Don’t- fuck, don’t jump, I…” he stood there, staring at Gaster with tears in his eyes, “please, don’t… just come back to this side, please…”

He was still in disbelief. Why Sans? Why him? Why save him?

“…Why?” he responded, voice hoarse and quiet.

Sans stopped. For… for once in his life, he tried to put himself in his father’s shoes. Why _would_ Gaster want to?

“Please? I… we…” he took a breath. He had to do something. He had to put an end to this. “We need to talk.”

Gaster stiffened. That was never a good phrase to hear, but it couldn’t get much worse. He… he may as well. If worse came to worse, he’d be more careful next time, and make sure nobody was following him.

Slowly, hesitantly, he climbed across the railing and onto the other side. Sans sighed with relief. A part of him had thought Gaster was going to just jump anyways. Luckily, he decided not to.

 

They stood there awkwardly for a while, neither looking the other in the eye at all. Sans eventually spoke up.

“Hey, uh… why don’t we sit down?” he suggested. He sat cross-legged on the sidewalk, and Gaster followed suit. He was looking down and avoiding Sans’ gaze. His expression was hard to read. Sans felt guiltier than he ever had in his life. He literally drove his father to suicide. _Suicide._

“…Why did you do it?” he asked quietly. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to know.

“Why I tried to jump?” Gaster repeated. Sans nodded. “I thought it would be for the best. You’d be better off without me.”

“What about Papyrus?” that was the only thing he could say. Papyrus… he really did seem to be the only one who cared.

“I’m dragging him down. I can see he’s becoming more depressed. I don’t want to be a burden.”

Sans felt… like he was talking to an older, quieter version of himself. This is exactly what he thought every time he felt bad. That everyone would be better off without him.

He and Gaster really weren’t that different.

“What about everyone else?” he continued.

“There _is_ no one else,” he laughed drily, “barely anyone knows who I am, I haven’t spoken to Asgore in a year, and you want me dead. There’s no one.”

Sans winced as he said that. Gaster thought he wanted him dead…

 

This was all his fault.

He… he was frustrated and angry and hurt and he took it all out on his father but he didn’t want him _dead!_ That would… god, that would be awful. And to think he would have died and Sans never would have been able to do, to say…

There were so many things that would have been left undone.

He didn’t apologize.

He didn’t forgive him.

He didn’t speak to him without cruelty and bitterness.

He didn’t even see him happy once since the accident.

Not even _once._

No matter how hard Papyrus tried, he could never make their father smile genuinely. They had both forgotten what he looked like when he smiled, or would have forgotten if not for the sparse photographs.

And it would all be his fault.

“I… I don’t want you dead…” he said weakly. Gaster wouldn’t believe him. After everything Sans had said, everything he’d done, there was no way.

“Well, it sure looks like it,” Gaster retorted, “seeing as you said so just this morning. I don’t blame you. I’ve been a horrible person and father, and I’ve hurt you more than I’ll ever be able to fix. My career is ruined, and so is my mind. I’m practically dead already.”

Sans… really didn’t know what to say. He began rubbing his wrists, a nervous habit of his, when Gaster suddenly spoke up.

“Sans?” his voice was sharper than usual, and… concerned.

“Uh, yeah?” he pulled his sleeves back down over his hands. If Gaster saw what he thinks he saw…

“What… what was that on your wrists?”

Welp. The jig was up. As long as this was all emotional and revealing, he may as well let out his secret. He shrugged off his jacket, revealing pale, thin lines on his forearms. Scars.

Gaster froze, a mix of emotions on his face. Pain. Regret. Guilt. Sorrow.

“How long…?” he wasn’t able to finish his sentence before he was interrupted.

“I haven’t done it recently; it was… mostly in the first two years. When… uh, before you were recovering fully,” he ended awkwardly. Probably not best to remind Gaster of those two years of silence.

He was expecting more silence, or maybe an apology that he didn’t deserve, but… Gaster took off his own sweater. Sans wasn’t ready for what he saw.

He was horrified. There were... cuts. So many cuts, all over Gaster's arms, his wrists, his... even his neck. So many more than Sans ever had. A lot of them looked recent, some looking like they were made that day… There were some bloodstains on his arm. He hadn’t bothered to clean up, or bandage them. Some were reddish and puffy, and they could get infected if not given attention. And he knew exactly what had caused them.

"...How long has this been going on?" he asked, feeling his voice start to give out. 

"About... four years," Gaster replied, avoiding eye contact. Ever since he came home, he'd been cutting a little bit to try and snap out of the worst dissociative episodes, but once he realized what he had done to Sans...

That was a new kind of pain. Knowing you've hurt one of the people dearest to you... It's unbearable. 

Sans' eyes moved from Gaster's arms to his neck. There were larger scars there, including one that looked very recent... about week old. He gulped.

"Have you... have you tried before? To... commit?" he asked, knowing the answer but dreading it. 

Gaster nodded as he put his sweater back on. He held his elbows, looking away. This must have been the seventh... eighth time? He had lost count.

Sans could feel the air leave his lungs. All of this had been going on, right in front of him, and he hadn't even noticed...

No. That wasn't true. He noticed how Gaster would always wear long sleeves even on the hottest days, or he'd just stay in his room. He noticed the bits of bandages occasionally peeking out from his sleeve, or his neck. He noticed how sensitive his arms were to touch. He noticed how nervous Gaster seemed around knives and other sharp objects. 

He had noticed. He'd recognized so many of the signs... 

 

He just hadn't cared.

This realization _crushed_ Sans. Gaster, his own father, had been hurting himself and attempting suicide, and he just turned a blind eye. 

All because he was still holding a grudge for something that was petty and stupid and that wasn't even Gaster's fault... all because he couldn't fucking forgive him.

He remembered every time he'd childishly wished Gaster dead. Every petty insult and jab, and the satisfaction that the hurt caused. What the fuck was wrong with him?? 

Sans hadn't noticed it, but he'd started crying. Gaster felt the urge, the need to comfort him, but... he couldn't. He held back. He had to. Sans wouldn't want his comfort, anyways. 

And Gaster understood that. 

After all, he'd ignored his son for two years straight.

He'd caused a major depression, and probably triggered something chronic. 

He'd made Sans think he was unloved, when he wasn't. He absolutely wasn't, but Gaster was an idiot who couldn't be a fucking father-

He was snapped out of his thoughts by a tear-choked voice. Sans. 

"I'm s-so sorry..."

Gaster approached, unsure if he misheard or if Sans actually apologized.

Suddenly, before Gaster knew what was happening, Sans had thrown his arms around him and was sobbing into his sweater.

"God, I'm so s-sorry, I should have..." he took a shaky breath, holding on tighter and calming down marginally. "Dad, I..."

 

Dad. 

Sans hadn't called him "dad" in years. Gaster could feel tears start to well in his eyes. 

"I forgive you."

 

Gaster froze. 

These were...

These were the words he'd wanted- no,  _needed_ to hear for years. Everything had always been just out of his reach, and whenever he came close, he'd fuck it up again and end up right back where he started. 

 

Sometimes, he would have dreams about making up with Sans and wake up almost happy, before being crushingly reminded that Sans would never forgive him. 

Sometimes he had dreams about dying, and then Sans was finally happy. Everyone was. They were all better off without him. He would wake up with a huge desire to die, to just end his own misery along with everyone else's.

The worst by far, though, were when Sans or Papyrus died. It was almost always because he failed to save them. When it was Papyrus, Gaster felt guilty beyond belief that his son had done so much for him, and he couldn't save him. When it was Sans... he always awoke with the paralyzing fear and anguish that Sans would die without knowing he was loved.

Those dreams were always the worst. 

 

But now... his first dreams, the forgiveness ones, they were... they were coming true. 

Gaster started shaking. His shoulders heaved with a choked sob as he put his arms around Sans. The dam broke. 

He began to cry. Noisy, messy sobs that wouldn't allow themselves to be muffled. He clung to Sans like a lifeline, like any moment, he'd change his mind and mutter a bitter comment. 

But it never happened. They just sat there, crying, hugging each other for the first time in half a decade. 

"I'm s-so sorry, d-dad, I... I'm sorry..." Sans mumbled into Gaster's sweater, "it w-wasn't your fault, I'm... I'm sorry, dad... I wish I had forgiven you a long t-time ago."

He couldn't get over the fact that that this... it was all his fault. He hurt his father, and his brother, and everyone around him. 

Gaster, meanwhile, couldn't believe that this was actually happening. This was... actually happening. It wasn't a dream, it was real, he was real, this was real. It felt too good to be true. 

 

Sans could feel something similar. He'd sworn to himself, in a fit of rage, that he would never forgive his father. That he had been too hurt to ever go back. But now...

It felt like a relief. A huge weight on his chest, gone. He'd done it. He'd forgiven Gaster. And really...

Sans realized that it was, in fact,  _him_ who was in the wrong all these years. 

After all, it wasn't Gaster's fault he'd gotten brain damage from the explosion. That kind of thing was... random. It was unpredictable, and really, it was a miracle that he was alive at all... especially now. 

It was a hard fact to get over. His father had attempted suicide not once, not twice, but at least half a dozen fucking times, judging by the scars on his neck. And if he'd tried pills, who knows how many more? And now...

He had been so close. 

So close to falling. 

So close to dying. 

And it would all have been Sans' fault. 

 

How would it have... felt?

If, one of those other times, the attempt... succeeded?

Papyrus just... coming in to say good morning to Gaster and finding him on the floor, bled out or poisoned. Rushed to the hospital, only for the news to come back that it was too late. Their father was dead. 

Papyrus would be devastated, of course. He loved Gaster, that much was clear and obvious. 

But Sans?

How much would he have mourned?

Would he really have been happy, like... like Gaster thought he would be?

Satisfied, knowing that his father was finally dead, by his own hand?

 

No. 

 

It was... it was almost painful to think about. How he would've felt if Gaster had really died. But... one emotion stood out. 

Regret. 

Pure, agonizing regret. 

Regret that he hadn't forgiven his father. 

Regret that he and his brother had lost the last family they had. 

Regret that another life was taken by suicide. 

But, there was another feeling, now that he thought about it. 

Guilt. 

This one was even worse to think about, but it would've been worse to feel. 

Because as much as he would miss his father, and wish he'd forgiven him, and said more before he died, what would hurt the most would be knowing that it would all have been his fault. 

If he had forgiven Gaster earlier, been there as extra support alongside Papyrus, offered love and care and understanding, it wouldn't have happened. 

But it had, and it would've all been Sans' fault. 

He would have killed his father. 

 

Sans didn't notice it, but he'd been mumbling some parts of his incoherent thought process aloud. Not much, really... mostly apologies. To Gaster, to Papyrus, to everyone. Gaster was still holding him, rubbing circles into his back. It was comforting, familiar. 

Sans hugged him tighter, taking a deep breath. He had to say it, or else... if this happened again, he might not get another chance.

"I love you, dad," he whispered. It had been years since he'd said that. He... really needed to say it again. 

And Gaster needed to hear it. He felt another tear slide off his cheek as he replied.

"I love you too, Sans."

 

A few minutes of hugging later, they both got up and started walking back home. It was... a little awkward. After all, they hadn't really spoken to each other without passive-aggressive warfare in years. 

Sans was the first to break the silence, as expected.

"Did... does Papyrus know about...?" he gestured to his neck. 

"No," Gaster answered, "if he had, he'd have told you."

That was true. Papyrus really, really wanted Sans to forgive Gaster. He knew how much it made his father upset that Sans acted like he hated him. Sans didn't want to imagine the talk that would have ensued if Papyrus found out about Gaster's self-harm and suicide attempts... there would have been tears for sure. 

"I'm... I'm really sorry for how I acted," Sans began. He figured he should go into more detail in his apology. "I know it really wasn't your fault, I was just dumb, and I couldn't..."

"It's okay," Gaster interrupted, "you don't have to apologize."

Sans looked incredulous. What did he mean, he didn't have to apologize??

"What th- of course I do! I drove you to  _suicide,_ for fuck's sake! God, I can't believe you don't-"

Sans stopped. 

Of course Gaster didn't think he deserved an apology, he'd been piling all the blame on himself. It wasn't like Sans had been making it any better. 

Before he could continue and maybe try to clarify his point, Gaster started talking again. 

"I should apologize," he started. "For all those years after I started speaking to you again, I never tried to... to fix our relationship. I was a coward. I was so scared of making things worse that I ran away, and never tried to make it better. I'm sorry."

"You were scared because of me..." Sans whispered, half to himself. 

"What?"

"You weren't just scared you'd make things worse, you were afraid that I would refuse. That I would reject you."

Sans' voice was quiet. He didn't want to admit it, but...

"I... I probably would have. I was so stubborn, and I still felt hurt... I'm sorry."

Gaster was silent. He was looking at the ground, his eyes weary. Everything was… it was a lot to process. He… he needed a break. So he just stopped walking and sat down against the wall, knees pulled to his chest. Sans, seeing this, followed suit and sat next to him.

“I… I really haven’t been the best father,” Gaster mumbled. He was too exhausted to really process what was going on, or what he was saying.

“It wasn’t your fault, y’know,” Sans replied. “I mean, you were in the hospital for a year and you had bad brain damage and a fuckton of trauma. I don’t expect anyone up on their feet immediately after a fiasco like that.”

“It’s been years, though… I should be recovered, shouldn’t I?”

Sans had to stop and think at this. How do you… recover from something like this?

“Dad, nobody expected you to be back to who you were before,” he started. “I mean, brain damage is… weird. And arbitrary. We still don’t understand the brain and how it works, it’s just… look. We understand that you can’t be exactly who you were back then, but that doesn’t mean you can’t be good.”

Gaster smiled again at this. Knowing that someone… believed in him was really helping to lift him up a little, or at least keep his head above water.

“…Thank you.”

 

After a bit more sitting in silence, they eventually got home. Papyrus, luckily, was asleep. It would’ve been difficult to explain everything that had just happened to him. Gaster would tell him about it in time, when he felt ready.

For now, he focused on trying to mend his relationship with Sans.

Papyrus was ecstatic, of course. He’d wanted his brother and father to be friendly to each other again for _years,_ and finally it was coming true. Gaster and Sans were just as happy. Things were finally looking like they could be normal again.

 

A week later, Gaster went out to check the mail. There was a package. Strange, he wasn’t expecting one. He brought everything inside and went to open the box.

He saw a mug within the bubble wrap- he’d save that for Papyrus- and his heart dropped into his stomach. No. No, not another, he thought- he thought Sans was finally okay with him? Not another one of these…

Feeling cold dread wrap itself around his brain, Gaster slowly unwrapped the mug. He turned it around to see what was written and choked out a sob.

He started crying, tears rolling down his face as he tried to wipe them away. Everything was just pouring out.

Papyrus, hearing this, came downstairs.

“Dad?” he questioned. “Why are you crying…?”

He walked over to comfort his father when he saw a mug on the table. Oh no. The last there was a mug, it ended badly…

However, on closer inspection, Papyrus could see that Gaster was actually… smiling. Puzzled, he looked at the mug and nearly started crying himself when he saw what it said.

It was a plain white mug, teal on the inside. In lowercase Comic Sans font, a message was written, with a smaller message on the inside rim.

 

“You are a good dad.”

 

“That’s all.”

**Author's Note:**

> my gf has that "you are a good dad" mug and my first thought was this au and then uh this kinda happened lol


End file.
